


Boy in Red

by BetweenTheStars



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (and also very horny), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Bottom Steve Rogers, Dom/sub Undertones, Feminization, Idiots in Love, Lingerie, M/M, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Romance, Top Bucky Barnes, Valentine's Day, only a sprinkle of it though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:56:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22727266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetweenTheStars/pseuds/BetweenTheStars
Summary: For almost a week now, Steve has been planning the perfect Valentine’s day.(In which Steve discovers lingerie and decides Bucky deserves a big surprise.)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 5
Kudos: 158





	Boy in Red

**Author's Note:**

> While editing, I listened to, "Touch," by Sleeping at Last and it somehow fits the vibe I was going for.
> 
> Short warning for a paragraph in this: Steve mentally refers to himself as a slut and/or whore and I don't mean that to be in a derogatory way, nor does he. It's just the meaning behind it that applies.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

For almost a week now, Steve has been planning the perfect Valentine’s day.

Though he never really celebrated it much, mostly due to the fact that he was small and sickly and far from buying any gals a box of chocolates, it’s different now. In the future (or in the present now, he supposed) holidays are important, if not for businesses and their marketing schemes, then for all of the millennial couples who base their worth upon just how many cards they’ve gotten on that particular day. Steve honestly couldn’t care less if he got anything, just as long as the people in his life knew they were loved by none other than America’s Favorite Golden Boy. Or, if you’re an Avenger, then by Steve Rogers.

But ever since the man with a mask appeared and turned out to be his long lost “dead” best friend, holidays have become something special again. They were too poor to afford gifts; ma always tried her best to cook a traditional meal, and sometimes they’d be fortunate enough to sit on the fire escape platform and watch fireworks during the Fourth of July. However, those moments were his absolute favorite, no matter how broke they were, and definitely no matter what sickness he was fighting on that given day.

Waking from the ice and learning that not only had he lost his mom, his best friend, and the second love of his life, had spoiled the feeling altogether. Rather than making memories with the new people he gained, he stayed in his room and either stared listlessly at the ceiling or threw himself into a tedious mission to take his mind off of it all.

But that was _before_ Bucky returned, and when he did, he had about the same feelings as Steve: that holidays were no longer worthy of his time. Today, though, was special, and not because it revolved around _love_ or any of those sappy feelings Steve wouldn’t ever admit he adored. Valentine’s day was his chance to set their relationship in stone, and if he was going to have some fun along the way, then, well, that was his own problem to deal with.

The plan he came up with a week beforehand wasn’t very structured. He wanted to do a classic dinner with roses and a prepared meal, then put on some Frank Sinatra and take up on Bucky’s earlier offer of teaching him how to dance— and _correctly_ this time. He wanted to clear his schedule, as well as Bucky’s, and spend the next three days in their own little bubble, just as they did when they were kids. Thankfully enough, crime had hit its low around the end of January, too many villains deciding that they’re not low enough to mess with happy couples. Or maybe they’re just jealous and waiting for their time to strike. Either way, Steve managed to get a whole week of time off to execute the bare bones of his plan.

Speaking of which:

On Monday, he asked Natasha for advice, who then proceeded to kick him out and ask why the hell of a previous Red Room operative would know anything about romance, which was fair enough. Sam did the same on Tuesday, and Clint only provided that if there wasn’t flowers, then he wouldn’t be doing it right; and if Bucky happened to not like the flowers or any of the chocolates Steve stashed up on, then Clint would be happy to take them both off his hands.

Wednesday, he opened up the laptop Stark gave him and got dozens of ads for specially-made bouquets, gifts, and lingerie to “show your boyfriend or husband a good time with.”

Of course, that’s when Steve’s gears started turning.

He’s never really thought of himself in anything typically considered “girls clothes.” Being called delicate and treated as though he were a doll for the first twenty years of his life dented his desire in wearing anything pretty, but for Bucky, he’d do anything, even if it meant he’d be out of his comfort zone for a little while. He had two days to try it on and test out the lace, and if he decided that he wasn’t going to do it, wasn’t going to surprise Bucky with such a thing, then he could always get rid of it some way or another.

Spoiler alert: he ended up liking it. A lot.

It’s not the _idea_ , necessarily. It’s the fabric, the silk; how it feels on his skin compared to the usual pair of cotton boxer-briefs he wore. On the website, the sizing was challenging, and so was the price. Over hundreds of dollars just for a pair of _panties, Christ_. But he was a millionaire now, and one of the perks was getting anything he wanted nowadays, and so he bought them— two, to be specific; one red, deep red, like the star on Bucky’s arm, and the other a deep navy blue, matching the color of his stealth suit. If he bought a white pair, he’d just be buying into the Captain America image, so he didn’t. That wasn’t what this was about. To be fair, Steve didn’t know entirely what was. He got pretty things to dress himself in, a cookbook, and Brooklyn market’s finest flowers, but one problem: he never figured out how to execute it.

Does he wear the lingerie the whole night and wait until things escalate? Or does he sit Bucky down after their dinner and go and get dressed? The anticipation of waiting in that bathroom, knowing that outside the door awaited his curious boyfriend was a little much. Steve might be confident in battle and around the press, but he’s a pussy when it comes to the people who know _him_ and not the persona he puts on.

Ha. So maybe he’s more feminine than he thought.

Thursday rolled around and made his decisions for him: he was going to wear the dark red one all night, and then proceed to lead Bucky out of the kitchen and into the bedroom, where he’d previously set up a trail of rose petals because he’s that much of a cliché. From there, only time could tell. Bucky could either love it or hate it or worse, pretend like he enjoys it for the benefit of not hurting Steve’s feelings. It’s a crazy thing to think, but considering how much pity he gained when he was smaller, it wouldn’t be completely impossible.

And that leads him to Friday; today’s current date. Bucky had always been an early riser, but nowadays, not so much. His brain needs lots of healing time through his recovery. If not for that, Steve might have put up a fuss, saying that mornings were the best since they didn’t get a lot of them together in their past life. Fury also had a tendency to schedule meetings after nine so that the Avengers could fully waken before they’re piled into the room and forced to soak up information.

At the first sign of sunlight, Steve was up and out of bed, on a mission to make heart-shaped pancakes for breakfast. Bucky awoke not even two and a half hours later, which was fine by Steve. He had everything prepared and the food waiting to be reheated, the mistake of his first attempt at shaping runny dough in the bottom of the trash can, never to be seen ever again. The rest, he kept in the microwave, out of sight. If it’s going to be a surprise, then he can’t just set things out willy nilly. He’s got _class_ , alright; he’s a good guy like that.

Then came Bucky’s reaction, which was just as good as he imagined, if not better. The happy grin on his face never left, even after both of their plates had been cleared. Steve was meant to get up and make some orange juice, but he got about as far as the kitchen island before Bucky was sneaking up behind him and slipping his mismatched arms around his waist. Steve had called it off before anything became of the action, but God he _wanted_ , he wanted so bad; wanted to spin around and kiss Bucky senseless or at least until they both couldn’t take it anymore; wanted to show the special gift waiting beneath the tight fabric of his khakis. He wanted to, but he didn’t. His self-control was an iron curtain, and it’s been breaking down throughout the day like Franklin D. Rosevelt on his announcement podium.

The same thing happened at noon, where they both had been lazing about around their shared floor, occasionally watching cute documentaries and cuddling on the couch. Steve had been sketching, just something a little rough, the base shape of two sprawled super-soldiers holding hands in the grass, when Bucky had shifted from beside him, and slid both arms around Steve’s waist, and pressed smiling kisses against the side of his neck and up to his jaw. Because of his crumbling determination, Steve let Bucky kiss him, and kiss him, and keep kissing him, and then eventually he had enough breathing space to remember that this would ruin the surprise, to which prompted him to gently shut Bucky down.

“It’s Valentine’s day,” Bucky had argued, a frown on his pouty lips. “Can’t I treat my fella for being so amazing?”

Steve flushed, and opposed to his confused boyfriend, he had a smile on his face instead, one of mischief and apology.

“We’ll get to that, Buck. Just not right now,” He promised, and that was the end of that.

Dinner went well. Steve had cooked while Bucky set the table; nothing fancy, just a cotton tablecloth and some candlesticks, like they were in the Depression again and pulling out ma’s saved candles for special occasions only. Neither of them could get drunk, so instead of a bottle of wine, Steve had bought a bubbly apple cider than ran smoothly across his tongue. In his honest opinion, it was better than any wine they could have had anyways, including Stark’s over-expensive bottles he keeps on display in the penthouse; a show of how much money he has to the other millionaires who come to the tower expecting the utmost of quality.

They had steak and cider and chocolate, after Steve had pulled out the box with a sheepish smile, along with a full bouquet of flowers. Bucky took them both from him gratefully, although not without an amused look.

"You've got the biggest sweet tooth in Brooklyn," Steve had explained, stealing a piece of chocolate. Bucky agreed.

It wasn't until the clock's hands pointed towards nine o'clock that Steve finally decided that he was ready; that the surprise was soon to become a surprise no longer. He dragged Bucky away from the couch they gathered on after dinner and sat him down on the bed with a demanding finger pointed in his direction.

"Stay there."

Bucky just chuckled and did as he was told, watching Steve with curious eyes as the blond disappeared into the bathroom. He could hear the shuffle of clothes if he listened closely enough, some of the deep breaths Steve usually took labored. From the bed, and with a lengthy piece of wood in the way, Bucky could only speculate what was going on, which was what Steve was counting on.

There really wasn't much of a purpose for why he needed to seperate them to get undressed. The thought of getting caught in a button or accidentally taking too long to fumble out of his pants made Steve take a safer route, which apparently included shying away like a goddamn school girl. In the mirror, his reflection stared back at him with wide, dilated baby blue eyes, a pink flush spreading out over his cheeks and neck and following the line between his abs before finally stopping right above his navel. The red of the panties made the color stand out, almost as if somebody turned up the saturation on his body. His hair got mused when he tried to figure out a style for it. In the end, Steve decided that it was going to get messed up anyways and left it as is, with a few curls dangling on his forehead.

When he was ready, Steve lingered at the door with his hand on the knob and— hesitated. "Are your eyes closed?" He asks self-consciously.

"Should they be?" Bucky's muffled voice came through. Steve could hear his grin, even with a barrier between them.

"Please,"

Next, Steve hears a chuckle and the soft, mechanical whir of Bucky's arm, presumably of which he's using to cover his eyes more clearly.

"Okay, they're covered," Bucky says. Once the door's opened and Steve has checked that Bucky really wasn't looking, wasn't lying, he steps out and smoothes a pair of hands down his thighs, just barely catching upon the lace. The feeling makes him shiver from head to toe, goosebumps beginning to lay claim over his pinkened skin. He proceeds to stand in front of the bed, where Bucky’s feet are just barely touching the floor, unsure of what to do with his hands. Do they stay at his side or stroke a pose? Or what if—

“You do realize I know you’re there, right?”

Steve clears his throat. His hands stay at his sides.

“You can look now.”

At first, Bucky doesn’t move, giving Steve all the time he needs to back out or change his mind because he knows him too goddamn well and he’s a sweetheart like that, and when Steve shuffles in place to get his nerves out, it’s then that the metal arm comes down from his eyes. Bucky’s reaction is immediate, and his gaze lands directly on Steve’s chest and then lower, to the panties, lingering on the hem where tiny sewn hearts line the elastic.

Again, Steve shuffles in place. First it was just to give himself something to do, and now it’s because of plain ol’ nerves.

Another few seconds pass, Bucky eyes roaming every inch of Steve until he’s finally caught on those gorgeous baby blues, his own pupils dilated ‘til there’s nothing but a sliver of icy-gray left. His face is darkened by a considerable amount, and his tongue swipes across his bottom lip as he prepares himself for what to say.

“Wow…” Is all that comes out.

Steve smiles sheepishly, giving an awkward twirl.

“Whaddya think? Did I surprise you?”

“Did you—” Bucky’s laugh stops and starts, and his voice is darker now; more rougher. Steve’s got somewhat of a Pavilovian response to that tone and his dick reacts accordingly, chubbing up against the lace. “ _Christ_ , yeah, you’ve surprised me. I was expecting more chocolate, but this—” Bucky waves outwardly, right as Steve’s just about facing him again. “Baby, you’ve got no goddamn idea how pretty you look right now.”

The compliment heads straight to Steve’s head, among… _other_ things, to say the least.

“Y’think so?” He asks all coyly, biting at his bottom lip. Bucky responds by grabbing Steve by the wrist and tugging him forward, until he’s in the space between Bucky’s spread thighs, towering over him. Steve’s blush darkens when he sees where Bucky focuses on next, which is still the panties, but now lower, where his arousal is showing clearly. It’s rare that Steve’s ever shy like this. He’s too much of a brat; likes to talk back and make snarky comments as Bucky punishes him for it all the while. Now, though, he’s practically buzzing with obedience. Bucky could give him an order and he’d drop to his knees, no questions asked, just as long as he keeps getting called _pretty_ and any other praised names Bucky could come up with.

“Damn…” Bucky says; still speechless, it seems. He presses his hand- the flesh one, so Steve could feel just how warm it’s getting- to the dip below Steve’s navel and runs it down, until he’s grazing past Steve’s fully-hard cock, peeking itself out of the waistband of the panties. They’re so _small_ on him; It took two hours and another awkward visit to Natasha’s apartment for Steve to pick out something that’d fit him perfectly, as well as heighten his natural curves. From the looks of it, Bucky has already noticed the difference, but he still looks just as pleased as ever, if not more.

Steve takes initiative and sits down, now fully in Bucky’s lap. Immediately, both of his mismatched hands land on each side of Steve’s lace-covered hips, his thumbs dipping past the elastic and sending a shiver down the blond’s spine.

“I’ve got another pair,” Steve admits, smoothing his hands on top of Bucky’s shoulders. He leans down until his mouth is an inch away from his ear and says lowly, “Thought you might like blue, considering all that talk you’ve had over my stealth suit.”

Bucky groans softly and tightens his grip. “You’re a menace.”

Steve grins. He can’t exactly argue with that.

“I wanna fuck you with these on,” Bucky husks next, and Steve’s grin is gone in an instant and replaced with surprise, shyness, and then finally, after the words had set in, _arousal_ ; deep and all-consuming, filling up his gut with sparks of heat.

“God, please,” Steve begs on a breath. His next exhale is stolen away, Bucky’s lips meeting his in a slow, hot kiss, licking behind his teeth until Steve’s mouth goes pliant against his own. It’s hard, staying still when every touch jostles the lace somehow. The lower part of the panties, where it ends at the crease between his thigh and hip, rub against the tiny hairs on his legs and make them stand straight, bristling like a cat. God, he should’ve shaved earlier, but it feels so _good_ ; makes the sensitive parts of his skin feel overstimulated every time he gets caught up on the denim of Bucky’s jeans.

Patience is neither one of their strong suits. Once Steve’s got a steady grind going, Bucky’s already working to get his own shirt up and off. It hits the floor with a dull thump and follows behind with two decorative pillows, Bucky’s hand having to stretch back behind himself to get ahold of both. The last time they fucked on the bed (which was admittedly not often, considering how needy Steve gets when he’s hot for it), their Target-bought pillows gained stains that were never able to wash out. Now, they’re careful, both because wasting things just isn’t their style and the bed was going to get messed up anyways, so why not prevent some more washing to do.

The hand on Steve’s left hip trails down, fumbling to get the zipper on Bucky’s pants down. Steve takes over by batting his hand away and working at it all on his own. When the button pops off and a relieved sigh puffs out against his mouth, he sits up straighter and shimmies back into a stance, both hands placed at Bucky’s knees and slowly starting to slide up. He gets his jeans about halfway down before Bucky’s pulling him up into a kiss again, this time chuckling into it in response to Steve’s indignant squawk.

“Was gonna get ‘em off,” Steve murmurs into the kiss.

“Can’t help it,” Bucky murmurs back, “You’re too pretty. Can’t keep my hands off’a you.”

“Way to get a guy’s ego inflated,” Steve says, forcing himself to pull away. Bucky’s mouth lingers near his, panting, breathing in each other’s air. Bucky tastes of chocolate and strawberry milk and it’s the most delicious fucking thing Steve’s ever had the honor of savoring in his entire life. He wants more, but first:

“Lay back,”

Bucky looks at him, puzzled, but does as he’s told, leaning back on his elbows, rose petals falling aside, and watching Steve bend over to get rid of the offending fabric around his legs. His boxers follow suit, landing on top of the laundry basket and hooking inside. Steve is then face-to-face with Bucky’s cock, which was flushed and hard and drooling at the tip. Steve hums, dipping his tongue into the slit to lap away the taste while Bucky curses and grabs a handful of the sheets above him. Lowly, there’s a mechanical sound of metal plates clicking together and Steve has all of three seconds to get a breath in before that hand threads into his hair tightly and pushes him down, forcing his mouth onto the tip of Bucky’s cock. They both moan in tandem, Steve louder simply due to the premise: being used as a toy for the benefit of his boyfriend’s pleasure.

Bucky tips his head back, semi-long hair brushing against his shoulders, and hums, low and rumbly, like a pleased lion. He takes Steve’s cheek in hand rather than tussling up his hair and gently thrusts up, to which Steve quickly gets the picture and bobs his head down, meeting his hips with little effort. Steve nuzzles against the groomed hair pressing against his nose and Bucky curses breathlessly.

“Baby,” He says, grinding in deep, _so deep_ , so that Steve feels the blunt head hit the back of his throat. Whimpering, Steve squeezes his eyes shut and gets another few seconds of pressure before Bucky lets him back up. He gasps in a couple of short, deep breaths and places a kiss to the tip, then Bucky’s hips, then navel, making his way up until they’re kissing again, the taste of Bucky still heavy on his tongue. It’s not enough. He wants more, and he wants it _now_.

“Please,” Steve says, breath hitching. He grabs ahold of Bucky’s wrist and guides his hand to the front of his panties, which are now stained and steadily getting wetter and wetter the more Steve’s cock leaks.

In an instant, Steve’s on his back and Bucky’s above him, his palm pressing lightly to the lace, making it rub against all of that sensitive skin. Steve keens and arches into the touch, silently begging for more, but Bucky’s not satisfied with that reaction. He says, as his hand continues its movements, “If you want something, then you’re gonna have to ask for it, babydoll. I don’t read minds.”

Steve manages to open his eyes and look up, meeting Bucky’s hungry gaze. In all fairness, mind reading would be the least surprising thing to happen to them after everything they’ve already been through. It’s right next to _vampire_ and _immortal_ , both of which they’ve been called on separate occasions by separate people. His considering expression is enough to get Bucky to jostle him, as if the action would cause his answer to tumble out.

“You had an idea earlier,” Steve says slowly, watching as Bucky’s eyebrows climb higher and higher.

“...And?”

Steve bites his lip. “I want that.”

“Hmm, not sure what you’re referring to, baby. Gotta be more specific.”

“Buck,” Steve huffs. He tips his head back against the bed and feels the embarrassed flush from earlier return at full force, painting his cheeks and neck and chest red. “Just—” He settles a hand onto Bucky’s left shoulder again, using the grip to coerce him closer. Bucky does, only after Steve spreads his legs and invitingly wraps them around his hips. “Please. I want you inside of me. Wanna be used,”

Bucky’s expression softens, the amusement in his eyes fading and getting replaced with adoration. But there’s a darker look to him, too, in the way he holds himself, his left arm locked and battle-ready, as if he’s not hesitant to hold Steve down and take what he wants. Steve gulps at the thought, and Bucky’s eyes follow the movement of his adam’s apple almost hungrily.

“I’m not gonna use you,” He says softly, “Dressed up the way you are, lookin’ at me like that; I might as well treat you like a prince, huh?”

Steve blinks, feeling surprise and dizziness rush to his head, all the blood in his body heading south.

Bucky smoothes a hand down Steve’s torso and lightly grips his thigh, hoisting it up further, so that his hips are off the bed and their cocks are bumping together hotly, smearing slick between them.

“Just a pretty little thing, aren’t you…” He rumbles, trailing off. Steve feels his grip tighten on both the sheets and Bucky's shoulder; instinct reaction to what that implies. With a dirty smirk, Bucky continues murmuring sweet little praises as he reaches for the bottle of lube on the nightstand and slicks up the digits of his right hand, getting them messy— messier than the pool of pre-come dripping down Steve's abs. Some had managed to reach his chest, where the pink of his nipples stood out, flushed and red and pebbled against the cool air; quite clearly aroused. If he wore a nice shade of lipstick, that’d be the cherry on top of it all.

_Later_. That’ll be a birthday gift.

Once Bucky’s satisfied with how much he’s warmed the lube between his fingers, he slides the panties to the side and glances up when Steve’s breath hitches, embarrassment and heat rushing to his face. He feels indecent. Jesus, he feels like a slut, like a _whore_ , spreading his legs at the first promise of getting filled and batting his eyelashes when he doesn’t get it fast enough.

Rather than the prep being quick and dirty, as Steve had expected it, Bucky takes it slow. He’s gentle with the first finger, presses little kisses and teasing nips down the collum of Steve’s throat, down his chest, until he’s swirling his tongue around a nipple and pulling breathy sighs from Steve’s bitten-red lips. Then he presses in, just the tip, and crooks his finger as he slides in further, until it’s down to the first knuckle. Steve sighs again, but it’s more of a gasp of surprise than a slow rush of air. The angle Bucky’s finger was at meant that he was firmly pressing down against his prostate; just pressing, no movement, no nothing. Just a slide in and out, still as slow as ever, and occasionally brushing past that bundle of nerves. Still, Steve feels himself shaking apart as his orgasm starts to build, first in his gut, making the muscles of his abs quiver, and then in his cock, which was still trapped beneath a layer of smooth, silky lace.

Steve’s hands twitch, his hips arching up and then away, trying to preserve what’s left of his sanity. But Bucky shakes his head and pins him down by the use of his metal hand, and that only does more bad than good. Bucky knows how Steve gets when he’s like this; knows that he’s got a thing for being matched strength-by-strength, forced to endure the pleasure whether he likes it or not.

“I need it," Steve says, low and throaty. He rolls his hips down to match Bucky's slow pace and earns a second digit in return, which squeezes next to the first and makes the slight burn of a stretch more prominent.

Bucky hums a pleased sound against Steve's chest and rises up, now at eye-level with him, and pecks a kiss onto the center of his chin. Steve's eyes flutter, a slow smile curving up the corner of his lips.

"I'm guessin' that means being slow wins the race today."

"Somethin' like that," Bucky chuckles.

Steve threads a hand into the long strands of Bucky's hair and guides him down into a brief, sweet kiss, the sound of their lips disconnecting sending a thrill through his veins.

It's like that for a while: slow, sweet kisses and even slower movements. At some point, Bucky's got four fingers in Steve while Steve writhes around on the bed, lazily grabbing for purchase on everything but the sheets, far too caught up in want to detach himself from Bucky for even a second. It's not even about his eventual orgasm anymore, although that's part of it. Bucky's got him wrapped around his shiny fingers, both literally sometimes _and_ figuratively, and it makes Steve feel like he's someone special, getting treated to something slow like this. Don't get him wrong, he likes it rough, _loves_ it rough, but this- this pace, this tenderness, all of it- this was starting to become one of his new favorites.

Steve's stretched enough now that any more preparation would purely be for teasing purposes only, and he knows Bucky's not about that today. He's gotten little to no stimulation— both of them haven't, but whereas Steve has gotten most of his fix from just four fingers, Bucky has gotten nothing. So it's no big surprise that the next part is a little more hurried.

First, Bucky withdraws his fingers and shuts Steve's whining up with another one of his signature kisses; the ones that leave Steve dizzy and forgetful of what he was complaining about in the first place. It's a nuisance when they're arguing about something together, but right now, he's more than happy to remain as happy as a damn clam and so, so pliant.

Next, Bucky lines himself up, first shooting a glance up to Steve's face to gauge if he's ready or not, and whatever expression he sees there must work as good enough of an answer because it's then that he finally pushes in, inch by thick inch, until he's hitting about the halfway mark and murmuring praise into the crook of Steve's neck. Steve wraps his legs around Bucky's waist tighter and trembles with the effort not to come so soon.

_Not like his serum won't get it back up like nothing ever happened, anyways._

Steve gasps in a sharp breath that Bucky lowly mimics when their hips finally meet. With the panties in the way and haphazardly pushed to the side, the first thing Steve feels is _heat_ , and then directly afterwards: _full_. The lace constricts his cock at the same time as it provides it friction. They’re not even moving yet, not directly. Bucky’s hips still, like he’s drinking in the feeling, relishing in the tight, hot heat of Steve wrapped around him and it’s driving Steve insane. He whimpers, low and needy, and when Bucky does nothing but kiss him in return, he does it again, making choked, desperate little noises until it fully gets across what he wants.

It’s not even a minute later that Bucky’s pulling back out and shoving back in, his hips grinding in deep, loosening Steve up further. Steve makes a shocked “ _unh!_ ” sound and clings to him, pushing his hips back down in time with Bucky’s aborted movements.

It becomes a rhythm; Steve makes a noise and squirms and scratches down Bucky’s muscular shoulders, and Bucky returns a moan and keeps moving his hips, slow. Always slow. And when he speeds up, which is well after Steve’s reduced to nothing but pleading gasps to short, wanton moans, there’s no inch of skin left between their bodies that’s not slick or slightly perspired by their efforts.

“Oh _God_ ,” Steve moans, as Bucky’s cock drives in further, just barely grazing past his swollen prostate. His thrusts are harsher now; instead of pulling his hips back by a short enough amount to make Steve cry out with the need for more, he’s almost slipping out, the tip struggling to stay inside before driving back in. It takes a few more long, rough thrusts for Steve to start trembling, crying out, “ah, ah, oh f- _fuck_ —”

He gets a hand around himself through the thin, soaked-through layer of fabric and is encouraged by Bucky doubling down in his efforts, driving into him with reckless abandon.

“ _Christ,_ ” Bucky bites out, his eyes on where Steve’s frantically trying to get himself off, wrapped up in the pretty, red material of the panties. “That’s it, baby. _That’s it_ ; c’mon...” He says breathlessly. Steve has barely two seconds to conjure up some sort of response before he feels Bucky’s hand join his own, his thumb rubbing little circles over the head of Steve’s cock. Steve’s hand slips to the side and grabs ahold of the sheets, white-knuckling them.

“Oh, _oh- please_ ,” He sobs, back arched, his eyes shut tightly and head thrown back against a lone pillow. Steve’s hips press up into Bucky’s hand, then back down, on his cock, alternating between wanting to get a proper hand around himself or get fucked even harder. Finally Steve decides, and tilts his hips up for Bucky to drive into his spot repeatedly. Bucky does, right after groaning at the new angle and dropping his hand to the side to be able to get a good hold of Steve’s tiny waist. _So pretty_ , he’s being called; _such a good boy_.

The heat that’s been building in his gut ever since Bucky first laid eyes on the surprise he’d gotten him finally crests. With a half-muffled shout, Steve shoves his head into the space between Bucky’s neck and right shoulder and comes so hard he thinks he blacks out for a few seconds.

The panties become stained with white, soaking through the fabric, some ending up smeared against Bucky’s abs. There goes a hundred dollars. That stain won’t ever come out now.

When the orgasm is over, and Steve’s thighs have stopped shaking, the muscles tense and sore, Steve releases his hold around Bucky and gently collapses back down onto the bed, back to being pliant and truly, utterly exhausted. All the while, Bucky’s hips slow, but they don’t stop. He’s close, too; Steve could feel it in muscles and the jerky movements of his hips.

Steve’s breaths even out, no longer taking big gulps of air to make up for the physical exertion. After a few seconds of shaky, slow breathing, Bucky asks, “You okay?” Steve knows what he means; knows the hidden worry. He’s asking if Steve will let him continue, if he’s _okay_ with letting him continue. Of course, Steve hums and gives a slow nod, a blissed-out smile on his flushed face.

“Wanna make you feel good,” He slurs, blinking his eyes open. Steve’s met with the sight of Bucky’s smug expression. He’s proud to have made Steve set off like that, and Steve’s proud too, if he’s honest, for holding off as long as he did. For pleasing Bucky just by feeling good.

Soft lips brush his forehead, and then Bucky’s pace picks back up. “You’re so sweet when you’ve come,” He says, a bit of amusement in his strained voice. Despite of the blush on Steve’s smiley face, he nods in agreement and tips his legs apart, spreading out to give Bucky more space to fit himself into.

“Can’t help it,” Steve admits, mumbling it. “Feels so good, Buck. _You_ feel so good,” And it’s either those words or the combination of Bucky’s rolling hips that makes Bucky quickly follow behind. They ditched condoms shortly after discovering Steve’s love to get marked up inside and out, and so the rush of warmth spilling inside of him is just as satisfying as it is dirty. He’s got zero plans of cleaning up the mess later, and he knows that Bucky doesn’t, either; that what’s inside of him now has a strong chance of being used as lube later if they ever start up round two.

Bucky gently pulls out of him, kissing away Steve’s small whine of protest. He then lays beside him and sneaks his arms around Steve’s waist, pulling them flush together, like two curled-in parentheses. But Steve wants to see him, and so with effort, he turns himself around and collapses back against Bucky’s chest, breathing him in.

“Mmm…” Steve hums quietly, his droopy eyes falling closed. A few surviving petals stick to his back and start to slide down. “Love you…”

Bucky kisses the top of his head, smiling, “I love you, too. Happy Valentine's day, baby.”

Steve’s pretty sure that he answers back with a slurred response, but his senses are deceiving him. He’s too tired to care anyways, and he knows Bucky gets the point because after Steve’s halfway to falling asleep, he chuckles and shuffles over, draping his leg over Steve’s own. Steve hums again and starts to drift off feeling warm, safe, happy, and so, _so_ loved; a job’s well done for the day they’ve had.

Now only two more to go.

**Author's Note:**

> Didn't realize until I was already done that I didn't emphasize Steve's tits, like most writers do. Perhaps that'll have to be in a (possible) follow-up.
> 
> Any kudos or comments are very much appreciated! My last work had brought up a few prompts/requests over on my [Tumblr](https://ctrl-alt-bucky.tumblr.com/ask), so stayed tuned for those. <3


End file.
